


Ex

by Itsallfine



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Coming Out, Exes, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Getting Outed, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 00:33:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10628448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itsallfine/pseuds/Itsallfine
Summary: One night, in the midst of their post-case high and on the cusp of something more, John and Sherlock run into John’s ex.His ex-boyfriend.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this like three weeks ago and forgot about it? I had this general idea a ways back, then someone (I forget who, so sorry!) posted one of those Sherlock seven word stories: “People might talk / I want them to.” Those ideas collided, and this happened. 
> 
> Unbetaed, sorry if it's rough!

 

There was little in the world John Watson loved more than spending the hours after a successful case watching Sherlock go soft around the edges. They laughed inappropriately, walked too close, had dinner with their legs pressed together under too-small tables, and John let himself bask in Sherlock’s cleverness, his joy and unreserved smiles.

It was enough for him. It would be enough.

With their stomachs full and their bill paid, John held the door open for Sherlock and followed him out into the crisp night air, the low level hum of contentment following them from the restaurant. Their shoulders brushed with every step, and John bit back a smile. The evening felt _right_ , on every possible level. He peeked up at Sherlock from the corner of his eye and caught him looking back. Shifted closer.

Yes, definitely right.

Maybe it was time.

He was so focused on Sherlock, on the potential of the moment, that he nearly missed the call.

“Johnny?”

John froze, his shoulders shifting back automatically. Defensive mode. He turned to face the source of the voice: Tall, thin, close-cropped dark hair, with a short blond man holding his hand just off to his side. He could practically _feel_ Sherlock deducing the pair of them.

_Oh no._

_Assert and diffuse._

“Brian. Hi. It’s, uh… good to see you.”

The man snorted. “Oh, yeah? Is it? That mean you’re acknowledging my existence?”

John closed his eyes and sighed internally. So much for brief and polite. He gathered himself and nodded, accepting Brian’s blazing glare.  

“I’m sorry, Brian, I was—”

“You were a right arse is what you were,” he cut in. “You and your posh boy here— _it’s not what it looks like_ , is that right, Johnny?”

“I—”

But Brian set his sights on Sherlock before John could get a word out.

“Let me guess. He fucks you at night, tells you what great friends you are, how much you mean to him, then denies you in public, yeah?”

His eyes locked back on John, tight with remembered hurt, as John stepped in front of Sherlock to shield him. “I’ve seen your blog. I know what the score is. You may not know it, but you’re in love with him, Johnny.”

Brian’s boyfriend tugged at his hand, but Brian stood his ground, shoulders back and chest out in righteous anger. John screwed up his courage and met Brian’s eyes dead on, then inclined his chin ever so slightly, hopefully beyond Sherlock’s notice. The tiniest nod.

 _Yeah, I know_.

“I’m truly sorry, Brian. I know it doesn’t help anything now, but I do regret the way I treated you. I don’t do that anymore.”

_Don’t date men anymore, more like. Not since you._

Brian’s mouth went hard. “Bit late for that, isn’t it? I can’t believe I gave you a whole year—”

“I think that’s quite enough,” Sherlock said, his voice low and absolute.  

John jumped as a hand slid over the small of his back and settled on his hip, one long finger weaving easily through the belt loop on his jeans.

“Everyone’s entitled to be a bit shit when they’re first coming out, _Brian_. It’s not an easy thing, as you well know, judging by your shoes and your watch. Family cut you off when they found out, did they? That’s unfortunate, but punishing John for it eight—no—ten years later isn’t going to change that.”

“But—”

“John has apologized, and I can assure you he has not repeated his past mistakes. We’re quite happy, and I certainly don’t need _you_ defending my honor.” Sherlock tugged lightly on the belt loop between his fingers. “Let’s go, John.”

John took one last long look at Brian, remembered him ten years younger and kinder ( _spread out below him, terrifying, tempting and far too much_ )—then let the pressure of Sherlock’s hand on his hip guide him away.

They walked like that for a full block, silent, with John too terrified to so much as glance at Sherlock. His heart thundered in his ears, and his skin prickled with panic, the half-remembered terror of being outed against his will that he hadn’t had to deal with since his days with Brian. As soon as they turned the corner onto the next street, Sherlock’s arm fell away and he stepped back, much further than he’d been before the encounter.

“I’m sorry if that was the wrong thing to do,” he said quietly, his eyes fixed straight ahead, “but it seemed the quickest way to shut him up. He deserved to be made a fool of.”

The corner of his mouth twitched with the hint of a suppressed smile, though he shoved his hands in the pockets of his signature coat and drew in on himself. “Not good?”

John’s stomach sank. The easy, post-case contentment had been completely stripped away, replaced by an awkward distance. Five minutes ago he’d been ready to risk it. Ready to confess. Now, with Sherlock’s reaction to his history, his sexuality…

“No, it was fine, Sherlock. You were right, of course. If you hadn’t… done what you did, he probably would have shouted at me for the next hour. It’s what he liked to do, especially at the end. I was horrible to him. I deserved it.”

John snuck a glance at Sherlock, who pursed his lips and returned the look.

“I meant what I said, John. Figuring it all out… everyone hurts someone in the process. Though you obviously decided it was a phase.” He paused. “Not gay, as you’ve said.”

John stopped. Just… stopped right in the middle of the sidewalk, looked up at the stars, and look a breath.

A crossroads.

He’d been ready, moments before.

He could summon that courage again.

One. More. Breath.

_Speak._

“I tried to tell myself I… grew out of it or something.”

Sherlock turned. Hesitated. Walked back a few paces, his mouth doing that thing, the thing John hadn’t seen since the tarmac.

“And did you?”

John mustered a wry smile. _As if I could._

“No. Definitely not.”

A beat. Sherlock’s eyes darted over John’s face and body, deducing everything John had been hiding, been suppressing for years. Badly, but not entirely unsuccessfully, judging by Sherlock’s reaction. He let down his guard, let it all show, let his face be open and clear. _Risk it._

When their eyes met again, Sherlock pressed his lips together, then spoke.

“After what I said earlier…” He broke eye contact. “Word might get out, I’m afraid. People might talk.”

_Risk it. Risk it. Do it, Watson._

John took a step closer, until their breaths puffed into a shared cloud of fog between them. He waited for Sherlock to meet his eyes again before speaking.

“Let them. I want them to,” he said, his voice rough, and he gave a weak laugh. “I should be so lucky, that people would think you’d want to be with me.”

Sherlock’s tiny intake of breath echoed in John’s head, the moment stretching long.

“I do.”

John flexed his fist. Licked his lips, looked away and back again.

“You—”

“Yes. I do. Want.” And Sherlock smiled, just a tiny curl. “You.”

John’s answering smile was a brilliant thing.

“Then let’s give them something to _really_ talk about.”

He closed the distance. No hesitation.

Ten years after his first boyfriend left him, John Watson kissed the love of his life in the middle of a busy London street.

People did, indeed, talk.

John let them.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr at [librarylock](http://librarylock.tumblr.com) for fic updates and general johnlock trashiness.


End file.
